


Tell me that you're mine

by TheQueenofMirth



Category: The Folk of the Air - Holly Black
Genre: Post-Book 1: The Cruel Prince
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-24
Updated: 2019-08-24
Packaged: 2020-09-25 20:41:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20377786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheQueenofMirth/pseuds/TheQueenofMirth
Summary: Elfhame's palace has been invaded by assassins in search of the High King, but he is safe in the Court of Shadows beside his Seneschal. But will Jude be safe?This one-shot is based on an excerpt from The Wicked King and is set between the first and second books.





	Tell me that you're mine

A faerie has taken me off my bed in the middle of the night.

More precisely, the Roach has woke me up because Elfhame Palace is over an attack. It’s not like in a war - there is not sound to prove Roach have told me the true - it an attack of spies and they are here to kill the High King and to disturb what could be a great sleep night to me.

I’m so pissed.

I haven’t even had time to dress appropriately. I’m still in my nightgown, with Nightfall in my waist and a dagger of steel in my right hand. We - the Roach and I - have left my room through the Shadow Court's tunnels. It doesn’t take much time to find Cardan and Bomb waiting in the office.

As spymaster and head of our intelligence, I stay back to coordinate our moves. Something I can't do if I get stuck in a face to face battle. Unlike a duel, this is going to be a slow-played chess game. The patience to wait for the opponent's movement is essential. Madoc has prepared me for this kind of situation with his strategy games. Not that he has imagined this exact case.

Cardan sits in his chair and puts his feet on the table desecrating the place that once belonged to Dain, but now belongs to me. I choose to stand before the table instead of protesting. He can pretend to be calm, but I know he is anxious.

Hours later, I give what I hope to be my last command towards a messenger and wait for the confirmation of my checkmate.

As I massage my aching neck, Cardan stands and walk around the table approaching me. He seems stunned as his eyes follow the movement of my hands. **Then he takes my chin, glamour in his voice. “Tell me that you're mine, Jude” **It sounds like a plea.

We are close enough to kiss.

“I’m yours.” The words escape before I have a chance to think about it. I’m too shocked to be ashamed. He moans and I have to squeeze my thighs together against the sensation of lack.

“You left your charms behind.” Understanding hit me. In my hush, I have forgotten my rowan berries. Cardan doesn’t know about my geas, he thinks he can glamour me. He believes he is doing it. “You're smarter than that.” His thumb caresses my cheeks. His gaze tracks the movement of his finger with obvious fascination. “Would you kiss me if I ask?” He swallows as if I could reject him.

Which, in a matter of fact, I can.

Or I could just kiss him. I just have to let Cardan think that he will steal a kiss, while the real thief will be me. The idea fills me with desire. He doesn’t know that I know. The shame in his expression ensures me that he probably won’t talk about this and, if he does, I can turn the table.

“Of course.”

With a fast and precise movement, he sits me in the desk. Cardan raises the hem of my nightgown over my thighs and press himself between my legs. Maybe I’m too inexperienced, but really seems he is aspiring for more than a kiss. 

He rests his forehead on mine. “Say it to me again. Tell me you are mine.” His breath touches my lips, penetrate my mouth. I don’t have to pretend to be lost in an enchanted, I’m.

I fetch for words to please him. “I’m your creature.” Cardan reacts as if he has been slapped. He steps away with pain in his eyes letting me crave for his touch. “Did I say something wrong?” I sound unsettled, what isn’t supposed to happen to someone under glamour. But he is very busy, in what appears to be an attempt to tear his own hair out, to notice it.

“I shouldn’t be doing that.” He groans. His voice is heavy with glamour when he says “We will wait for Roach or Bomb and when someone arrives you won’t remember what we talked tonight.” He pulls the hem of my nightgown down. “You are no one's creature, Jude Duarte.”

I’m not sure if I want to kiss or hit him.

He doesn’t look me in the eyes again.


End file.
